Tempted by Celestial Bodies

Chapter 1

chapter one

day one

It’s been ten years since I last set foot on Eiris. The thick humidity wraps around me like a welcoming hug as I stride down the ramp from Dad’s private starship.

My father, Governor O’Rourke, lingers in the open airlock, like he’s afraid to even touch the soil of the planet he rules as the Emperor’s representative. “Remember, Sinead,” he calls after me. “Six months to negotiate a treaty that favors our interests. Don’t disappoint me.”

I roll my eyes. He already spent the whole flight drilling that message home. Don’t bend to the aliens’ threats, and don’t get soft-hearted. You’re on Eiris to get what we need and put the locals in their place.

Turning back, I almost bump into my secretary, Cecily, floating my hover-trunks out of the baggage compartment. “Love you, too, Dad,” I say pointedly.

He doesn’t bother with the mushy stuff. Never has. And I, as always, have to pretend it doesn’t sting.

Dad disappears inside the ship. The ramp retracts and the engines power up. Cecily and I back away. Wind ruffles my auburn pixie cut as the ship lifts off, leaving me alone on a planet I haven’t visited since I was fourteen.

“Not to worry,” Cecily says, falsely bright. “I messaged the embassy when we landed. Your new bodyguard will be here in a moment to escort us.”

I sigh. My breath fogs the hard, clear, rounded breather mask that fits over my nose and mouth, connected to the air purification unit clipped to my collar.

Though Eiris’s air won’t be fatally toxic unless I breathe it for several days, it’ll start making me light-headed and/or causing hallucinations within a few hours. The oxygen levels are passable, but the trees give off some chemical that, over long exposure, puts unaltered—or “Earth Classic”—humans into a comatose state.

But the view is worth the trouble. I’ve daydreamed of Eiris’s natural beauty since Dad brought me here as a teenager to celebrate his new governorship. That was right after the Emperor had the old governor, Lady Crowe, executed. Back when Dad pretended to care about his only daughter.

I remember the first night in the resort, standing at our cabin window high in the trees. Dad pointed out a distant orange glow and said, “See that? They’re burning Lady Crowe in effigy tonight. Good riddance to a bad leader, and welcome to a new one.”

That might be the last time I remember being proud of him.

“Here he comes,” Cecily announces, anchoring my thoughts in the present. I sweep my gaze down the path that leads to the resort but see no one.

Then a whoosh of wings catches my attention and I look up. My jaw drops.

When humans colonized this planet two thousand years ago, they didn’t respond well physically to the lighter gravity and heady atmosphere. Rather than alter the planet to suit their needs, they altered themselves, splicing their DNA with one of the dominant local life forms.

And, for reasons unknown, they picked a fucking butterfly .

The man who floats from the sky to land in front of me is a dizzying blend of human traits with the colorful Eirisian insectoid. He’s tall and wiry-thin, with skin the color of my favorite rose-pink lipstick. His elfin facial features and silky-straight brown hair tied back in a low ponytail make him look like a character in a fantasy holo-drama, completely out of his element in a drab brown security uniform. He keeps his lower hands clasped politely behind his back, like he’s used to working with Earth Classics who get freaked out when they see a man with four arms.

Then there’s the wings . Folded, they create a brownish cape behind him, tapered back and stopping just short of brushing the ground. But in flight, the wings reach a massive span, at least twice his two-meter height, and they’re vividly, eye-bleedingly rainbow-colored.

But the worst thing about the butterfly man is that I recognize him .

Ten years was almost enough time to forget the annoying boy who followed me around the resort as my “tour guide” when I was fourteen. Almost…but not quite.

“Jalus?” I exclaim.

I’m not entirely comfortable with the way my heart thuds as he walks toward me. When I last saw him, I’d just had a growth spurt and Jalus was shorter than me, a scrawny twig of a kid, with wings still shaggy from their first molt.

He’s, uh, changed a lot.

Now he’s a head taller, with devastating cheekbones and intense dark-purple eyes. His gaze feels like an x-ray scan. I cross my arms over my chest, even though I’m already sweating in my long-sleeved court robe.

He bows, keeping his eyes locked on mine. “Lady Sinead.” Oh, stars, even his voice has changed. That husky rumble makes me forget how to breathe for a second.

“You’re working as a bodyguard now?” I choke out.

“I was training as a protector before your last visit,” he reminds me. “Since last longnight, I’ve successfully repelled twenty-nine swordbeak attacks on foraging parties.” He sounds like he’s used to reciting his résumé defensively.

Plenty of hybrids have jobs at the resort. I’m sure he’s qualified. However, I’m surprised the embassy would entrust their governor’s daughter’s safety to a man who represents the opposing side of the dispute I’ve come here to resolve.

“I’m not worried about animals,” I say. “What about people?”

Jalus blinks. “I’m not sure what you’re implying, Lady Sinead. The people of Eiris are peaceful. Do you expect an attack from your own embassy?”

I lean in to whisper in Cecily’s ear. “This isn’t going to work. Get me someone else.”

Cecily cups her hand over her mouth to hiss back, “There is no one else, my lady. He was the only applicant. So stop being mean to him before he changes his mind.”

I paste on a smile. “Fine. Let’s just go.”

“This way, my lady.”

This way, Nade! Come see this!

I blink away the memory of his childish smile, now nowhere to be seen. This isn’t ten years ago. I’m not here to explore while Dad holds diplomatic meetings. We’re both adults with jobs to do.

And my job is to bully his people into letting my father take what he wants from this planet.

The walkway from the spaceport to the resort is lined with little color-changing solar lights. The memory of how enchanted I felt walking this path for the first time brings a smile to my lips. The lighter gravity makes each step feel almost like floating.

Dad made me do a special lesson on Eiris before our last visit, so I know that the trees towering over me are called “Giant’s Embrace.” Eiris’s landmass is one large megacontinent with vast lakes dotted across it, and there’s hardly anywhere the trees haven’t claimed. They’re as tall as Hepburn City skyscrapers, draped with pinkish moss, and their trunks are thick enough that a starship could park inside a hollow log. The upward-curving branches give the illusion they’re reaching toward Eiris’s binary suns.

Tourism contributes a significant chunk of the planetary economy, since the hybrid communities live off the abundant natural resources and refuse to farm, manufacture, or mine anything. It’s Dad’s favorite rant: he can’t tax people who don’t use money. Which means the Emperor’s “gift” of governorship is frustratingly hard for my father to use as a means to enrich himself. The resort at least draws a steady stream of tourists for the novelty of living suspended in trees.

But Dad never gave up trying other tactics.

Jalus frowns as he tilts his head back. I follow his gaze and spot the zipline above our heads, strung between two massive trees at least five stories up. The branches have been pruned back to make way for the zipline, allowing a rare patch of sunlight to fall on the path below.

“What?” I ask. Does the guy hate fun?

“The trees.” Jalus doesn’t take his eyes from them as he speaks. “They’re injured.”

I snort. “What, a little pruning? It’s good for them.”

“That may be true of the trees from other worlds,” Jalus says. “The trees of Eiris mourn if they are cut.” His eyes meet mine, deep and plummy.

I’m not used to people towering over me like he does. It’s making me feel weird and unbalanced. I clear my throat and look away. “So I take it you’re on the side of my father’s opposition?”

“My loyalty lies with my Kin.” There’s no anger in his tone, but I shiver nonetheless. The hybrids call themselves Kin, but they consider all life forms on this planet their extended family.

“Then why volunteer to protect me, if you support my opponents?”

“The Kin aren’t your enemies,” Jalus says firmly. “We may protest a governor’s bad decision, push for him to change his mind—but those aren’t violent or dangerous actions. We’re only trying to protect what can’t speak for itself.”

“The trees.” We’ve reached the pulley platform that will raise us high into the branches. I step onto it and turn to face Jalus. “You talk about them like they’re alive.”

“Of course they’re alive.” He gives me a pitying look that strikes a spark of anger in my chest.

“I don’t mean—” My skin prickles. I pull in a deep breath. Do not go mega-glitch on him . “I meant sentient . Like they understand what’s happening.”

“Do you think they don’t?”

“They’re trees,” I say. “Trees can’t think.”

“You’re still thinking of your domesticated, Earth-bred trees,” Jalus says. There’s a note of sorrow in his voice. “Again, they aren’t the same.”

I know they’re not. That’s why I’m here.

When Dad’s scientists took samples of lumber from Giant’s Embrace for offworld testing, he was giddy to learn that the wood tested as uniquely sturdy, fire-resistant, and slow to decay. The chemicals the trees secrete, so dangerous when breathed in, harden into an amber-like sheen when the wood is cut and dried.

Dad wants to clear-cut a sample area and try to create a galactic market for this unique building material. It’s a relatively cheap venture to start out, and if it takes off, we could basically print our own credits with the vast resources this planet has to offer.

But the second his lumberjack crew landed here, ready to begin the project, they met fierce resistance from the local communities. Both human hybrids and the Eirisian insectoids came out in force. They sabotaged machinery, kidnapped workers, and surrounded the embassy. Eleven different ambassadors quit because they couldn’t handle the incessant protesting.

So Dad sent me. The twelfth. His heir.

“I don’t trust anyone else to represent our family’s interests in this dispute,” Dad said when he broke the news. “You’ve been training since you were a child to bear the responsibility of governorship. This will be the first real test of your abilities. I don’t think I need to say what’s at stake here.”

Oh, I know what’s at stake all right: Dad’s profit margins and bank accounts. But what he’s holding over my head is worse: if I don’t bulldoze over the protests and get him what he wants, he’ll disinherit me.

I wish I could say I didn’t care. That the comfortable Moon Palace apartment, the shallow political friendships I’ve forged with spoiled nobility, the invites to parties and balls, are all meaningless to me. But after a lifetime of living off Dad’s money, it’s all I know how to do.

Worse than that, the idea of disappointing Dad fills me with panic. Despite how distant he’s been lately, I can’t help bending over backward for his approval.

The platform raises us several stories into the treetops. I try not to look down as I step off onto a wide tree branch, where a handful of Earth Classic humans in breather masks are waiting. Cecily is ushered off with my trunks in tow, leaving Jalus and me to wobble along a rope bridge between trees as we make our way toward the embassy.

Well, I wobble. Jalus is infuriatingly surefooted.

The treetop resort stretches out between six or seven huge trees, connected by rope bridges and ziplines. Each upcurved branch cradles a one-bedroom treehouse made from enormous hollow seedpods. The roofs are thickly coated with the same pink moss that drips from every branch. It absorbs liquid like a sponge, keeping the houses dry and cozy even in torrential rain.

As a youth, I was enchanted with this place. It felt magical, like a fairy’s home in a storybook. But Jalus is frowning again.

“What?” I challenge. “You think the trees don’t like it when we build houses in them?”

“It isn’t the burdens you place on their arms,” Jalus murmurs. “It’s what you have done to their bodies.”

I follow his gaze to the bole of the tree on which we stand. A section of the trunk several meters high has been hollowed out to create a large room. The one we’re passing is a dining hall. The other central rooms in the resort include a ballroom, a bathhouse, and, of course, the Imperial Embassy.

“It doesn’t kill the trees,” I argue. “These rooms were made a long time ago, and they’re still thriving.”

Jalus shakes his head. “Would you enjoy being hollowed out, even if your blood still runs?”

I have no easy response for that. Suspicion sprouts in the back of my mind: he didn’t volunteer to protect me because he cared about our childhood friendship, or even his duty to the planetary governor. He’s a spy, sent to convince me to support the hybrids’ side.

Well, good luck. He’ll have to go through my daddy issues first.

Inside the Embassy’s hollow trunk, the room is partitioned into private offices. An intern ushers me to the one in the middle. “This used to be Ambassador Cora’s,” she says. “We cleaned out her stuff a couple of weeks after she disappeared.”

“She…what?” I turn to stare at the girl. She’s fresh-faced, probably a university student. Her short blond ponytail is losing its bounce, baby hairs straggling out at the neck and temples.

“Oh, um, I thought they would have told you,” she says softly, darting a glance at her colleagues. They’re all looking away, pretending not to hear. “There’s been, um, a lot of disappearances in the past few months.”

Jalus nods. “The previous eleven ambassadors have gone missing. That’s why they hired me to guard you.”

I gape. “No, they did not tell me.” Did Dad know? If he did, and sent me anyway…

Blast me, that’s cold, even for him. Enough to make a girl think her dear daddy wants to get rid of her. It already stung that he hinged my inheritance on the Herculean task of convincing a bunch of aliens that we’re entitled to their planet’s natural resources. Now he wants to throw me to kidnappers while he’s at it.

“Has anyone investigated?” I ask. “The protesters?—”

“Did not take them.” Jalus folds all four of his arms across his torso.

“But have you checked?”

“I don’t have to ‘check.’” He glares at me, the most emotion I’ve seen from him so far. “The Kin are?—”

“Peaceful, yeah, yeah. So maybe they didn’t kill them. But what about holding them for ransom to try to blackmail my dad into stopping the clear-cutting?”

Jalus’s reply is frigid. “If the Kin had taken your ambassadors, you’d know. You would’ve been given assurance that they were safe, and you would’ve already been presented with terms for their return.”

“I see.” Wrenching open the door to my office, I scan its bare amenities. The blank wallscreen, curved to fit against the bole. Uncushioned collapsible chairs. A desk folded up against the partition, able to flip down if I need a workspace. Nothing left of its former inhabitant or her possessions.

Nothing of the ten who preceded her, either.

I slide the door shut in Jalus’s face and take a breath to collect myself. I’ve been dropped into the middle of a trap, set up for failure on all sides.

But I don’t intend to disappear quietly.